Pressure, Without Grace
by Gater101
Summary: He thought he had grace under pressure, but compared to Teyla he was a bubbling wreck. 'Grace Under Pressure' tag.


Title: Pressure, Sans Grace  
Summary: He had always believed he had a certain amount of grace under pressure but compared to Teyla, he was a bubbling wreck.  
Characters: John & Teyla  
Pairing: John-Teyla  
Episode: _Grace Under Pressure_

The confines of the long corridor ricocheted the sound of his footsteps off the wall and back into his ears. Others around him moved to the side as he stalked down the corridor, knowing better than to attempt to speak to him; not when one of his team mates was missing, not when he looked like this. John would admit that in all his time here and with all the crazy shit that had been thrown at them, he'd never been this _unsettled. _He liked to believe that he handled the pressure with a certain amount of grace, that even when he did let it show he didn't reveal just how _little _grace he actually felt he had inside.

Usually at this time he would be sparring with Teyla in the gym; she'd even tried to coax him into the small room on the far reaches of the pier – not quite the gym but a room they managed to pass off as a training room none the less – with her gentle voice and quiet assurances that it would help to ease the tension she knew he was feeling. He wouldn't deny that, on any other day, he didn't mind having his tensions beat out of him by her. But when Rodney was missing, he knew the chances of him being on his ass were far greater than on any other day – and given that he was on his ass in that room more times than he cared to admit, he knew his pride wouldn't be able to handle it.

The doors to his quarters opened upon his command and he stomped in, sinking quickly onto the end of his bed, his back straight and shoulders set. A part of him wanted to lie down, or to take a shower but that meant removing the radio from his ear and he knew he wouldn't settle unless he could hear the chatter between the scientists as they communicated about the state of the Jumper they were trying to make ready. So he sat there in stony silence, running through the mathematical formulae that had been drilled into his mind through years and years of study. Usually, it cleared his mind but he found now that it reminded him of McKay and did little to settle his hyper sensitive nerves.

He sighed and closed his eyes, taking a moment to roll his shoulders and feign relaxation. He wondered if Teyla would have him light a candle, take some deep breaths like she had that time he'd joined her in her meditation hour. It had been nice – comforting, almost – to be close to her, to be allowed to be close to her at a time of such personal introspection but as he'd sat beside her bored out of his tree, he'd come to the conclusion that meditation wasn't for him. But he had liked the smell of the candles – they may even have helped him relax and he wondered if it was worthwhile going to her quarters to see if she had any spare ones she would loan to him for a while. Because he would _have _to go to her quarters; there was no way he was calling her over the radio to ask her to bring candles to his room – the rumour mill was in overdrive as it was.

The chimes rang but before he could even contemplate pretending he wasn't in his quarters, the door swished open and Teyla strode into his room. It was a bold gesture, to be sure; Teyla was the person who John knew respected the idea of privacy but as she stood just inside the threshold of his quarters, John couldn't find it in him to be annoyed by her breach of his sanctuary. He met her eyes for a moment before flicking them away and he heard her quiet release of breath, the soft sound of her footsteps as she came to his side at the foot of his bed. He could sense her hesitation and he flicked his fingers slightly, letting her know it was okay.

She sat beside him, her elbow and forearm brushing his waist as she breathed and he inhaled the scent of her. He felt his shoulders relax somewhat as the familiar sensation washed over him and he breathed out a sigh of almost relief. She shuffled beside him, fumbling in the pocket of one of her intricate cardigans and John watched her out of the corner of his eye, holding his breath slightly as she leaned against him for a moment.

He almost laughed when she pulled a power bar out of her pocket, holding it out to him. He turned to her with an amused frown of confusion and he could see the small flush ride up her cheeks.

"For Rodney," she said as he took it from her, their fingers brushing, "when you find him." He nodded and held her gaze for a moment before glancing down to where their fingers still touched. "He will be hungry."

"Which means he'll be grumpy," John replied, with a small amount of humour and Teyla nodded, smiling despite herself. John felt his body relax again, his lungs able to expand a little more as he breathed. "You sure you don't want to go instead of Zelenka?"

She chuckled and shook her head, her amused eyes catching his for a brief moment before she looked away.

"I fear Rodney will not believe Radek helped in his saviour unless he sees it for himself."

John conceded with a nod and they lulled into silence once again. He could feel her breathing against him, her deep breaths calming him slightly as he found himself mirroring them; her gentle warmth seeped into him and he found his body sagging under her unintentional care. He tilted his head and regarded her from his downturned eyes, taking in her slender hands and strong arms, the straight set of her shoulders – a stance any dancer would be proud of – to her lean neck and structured face; she oozed grace and John felt it wash over him, into him and he smiled when she turned to hum under his scrutiny.

"Thank you," he said knowingly and her smile faltered slightly before spreading across her lips. He reached out and wrapped his fingers around her hand for a moment, squeezing lightly. If she was surprised by the contact, she didn't show it and John sighed in relief when she let him pull his hand back without and words. "I better go see if Zelenka's ready yet."

She chuckled slightly, turning away from him as she shook her head.

"He will call for you when he is done," she said, light admonishment in her tone and John settled back against the bed again. "There is nothing you can do but wait."

He quirked a half smile in her direction and raised an eyebrow.

"That's the part I'm not very good at."

She smiled slightly and nodded, choosing silence over words and John was glad.

He thought he had grace under pressure, but compared to Teyla, he was a bubbling wreck. As he found his body mirroring her deep breaths once more, he thought that maybe meditation had its merits after all.


End file.
